


Moments of Clarity

by chaussettescanap



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Asexuality, F/F, Feelings, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Simon and Clary will not be dating each other, asexual Clary, just a little, polyamourous Isabelle, polyamourous simon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29202999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaussettescanap/pseuds/chaussettescanap
Summary: (This is set right after the last episode of the show.)Clary rediscovers everybody in her Shadow World family. With the year she spent as a mundane art student, she is not quite the same person... She had the time to figure out more about who she is, how she loves and what she wants... and she might look at Izzy differently now."She never feels ready, but after a few restless days, the desire to see everyone again is getting strong enough to overpower her fears. She wants a Lightwood hug, a Magnus wink, a Simon rant and an Alec eye roll, with Izzy’s laugh sprinkled on top. The whole experience."
Relationships: Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Clary Fray/Simon Lewis/Isabelle Lightwood, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Simon Lewis/Isabelle Lightwood
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ! This is my first fanfic, and more importantly, my first work in English. I wanted to contribute a little after years of reading here :) 
> 
> My girlfriend is polyamourous and I am asexual, so I wrote about what I know firsthand. I also think it fits with the characters... Hopefuly you'll like it!

After that night when Jace turned Clary’s life upside down, there are a few others where they just get together, drink coffee and talk. Actually, Jace talks, she listens, and with every word ( _parabatai_ , rune, Edom, Raziel, warlock, Valentine…) come new memories. In her mind, fabricated memories – Simon’s death, her mom’s death, Luke’s departure to another state, her decision to postpone Art School for a semester, and so on – fight with memories that are old and new at the same time. At first she does not know which ones to trust: how come demons and mass-killing family members is the truth, and car accident and loneliness is the lie? But slowly, everything makes sense again. It is not all easy, of course. She has to come to term with what she did too: the mistakes, the acts of bravery, the deaths. There is pain, there is heartache, but there is also so much love suddenly unlocked inside her.

Then, she meets with Simon and Luke. It gets emotional and very snotty. In the strong and warm embrace of her father, the cold hand of her best friend gripping her own, she can finally crumble. It’s not fair it’s not fair, she cries. When the tears finally stop, she can bask in their presence as the men sum up the events of the past year (at least the good ones; she can guess from their aborted sentences and intermittent sad looks that it has not all been easy).

She asks them for some time away to get used to her new reality. To mourn her mom, again. To be angry at the fact that her brain was messed with, again. To miss people she did not remember a month ago. To feel the relief that she is not as alone as she thought she was, that she still has a family. And what family it is! full of superheroes who fight against big, bad monsters and save the world every other week.

Jace surprisingly does not argue when she tells him to leave her be for now. She will contact him when she is ready to see (meet? It is confusing) the others. But now that she remembers the shadowhunter, she knows he is barely respecting her wishes, following her around, just out of sight.

She never feels ready, but after a few restless days, the desire to see everyone again is getting strong enough to overpower her fears. She wants a Lightwood hug, a Magnus wink, a Simon rant and an Alec eye roll, with Izzy’s laugh sprinkled on top. The whole experience.

*

The Sunday dinners have become an anchor in the lives of the Lightwood, Bane & Lewis family. And others; whomever is dear to one of them is welcome. Some weeks it is Raphael, coming to bitch over some narrow-minded teacher at the seminary – you can study priesthood and still have some critical thinking, thank you very much. These particular Sundays, you can see Magnus listening and watching carefully, absorbing every second spent with his now mortal son.

When Catarina is not working, she comes to relax and beg for a neck massage while Madzie plays with one or two willing grownups (but Alec is still her favorite). Of course, Maryse and Luke come too, even if that means getting teased relentlessly for being grossly in love.

Today, though, today is even more special: it is Clary’s first Sunday dinner.

The food is ordered from some European country, the drink cart is close-by, and the living room is filled with comfortable chairs and opposing couches, only waiting for people to fill the place. Magnus and Alec are somewhere doing who-knows-what (and if you ask Jace, nobody should want to know), so Jace is alone for now, waiting for the others to arrive. Enough time goes that he has worked himself up into a frenzy when Alec joins him with his work tablet – apparently, being the Inquisitor means reading reports on Sundays.

‘Goddamnit Jace, will you just stop pacing?!’ Alec loses his cool after ten whole minutes. Jace has been so volatile this past few days, and the mix of emotions coming from the bond is a lot to get used to for his brother after a year of dull despair. Right now, Jace is a cocktail of anguish, excitement and hope.

The blond overeager mess of a man lets himself fall on the closest chair, and forces himself to inhale, exhale, like the meditation app Simon hooked him up on six months ago taught him. Inhale, hold, exhale, hold, and again and again. Clary is coming, it’s fine, he’s fine.

‘I’m fine,’ Jace declares. Alec comes to him, and his palm on his shoulder feels grounding. ‘I should be fine’ Jace amends. ‘I saw her already. Multiple times. You should be more freaked out than I am by now.’

The days of Alec pretending not to care or even _like_ Clary are well over with. The painting he bought himself and hung right above the dinner table would be too revealing anyway. Everybody in the family knows that Magnus is the one that anonymously paid for Clary’s tuition, but that Alec is the one who watched her paint in her shared studio for an hour here and there, every time his increasing responsibilities in Idris allowed him to. So instead of deflecting, he answers Jace:

‘I am not freaked out at all. I know everything is going to be alright. It’s Fray. We need her unique brand of chaotic. Then everything will be right again.

’But what if … what if she doesn’t want to be part of this anymore? What if she wants to stick to painting and a mundane simple life? It’s all she ever wanted!’

‘She wanted to come today, right?’

Jace nods.

‘Even if she doesn’t want to be a shadowhunter again, she is still family. We’ll figure it out.’

Jace feels a little of his brother’s certainty flow through him. He realizes that he decided to come here so early because he knew he needed his brother’s blunt sincerity.

‘This is like … very mature and emotionally articulate of you, Alec,’ Simon suddenly pipes up from the doorway.

‘I could crush you with my pinkie, Lewis.’

‘No crushing my boyfriend, asshole.’ Isabelle hops to her brother, slaps his arm and hugs him in one fluid motion, ignoring Simon’s grumbles about vampire speed and weak muscle power of pinkies. She squeezes Alec a little tighter than what a week apart would usually prompt. Jace is next in line, and the familiar perfume of his sister helps him summon a little more serenity. Okay, maybe not serenity, because Clary is coming, we’ve been over this, but still, he feels better.

Everything is going to be alright, and they will figure it out.

*

It’s stilted at first. But then Magnus calls Clary ‘Biscuit’, Alec has a work call in the middle of the entrée, Simon spits blood through his nose after a particularly viciously timed joke from Jace, and everything rights itself again. At least for a little while.

*

‘May I join you?’

The voice startling Clary out of her reverie is hesitating, like Izzy is not sure her presence is welcomed here, with her used-to-be almost sister – used-to-be one-sided stranger; now something in between.

‘Sure, come here,’ answers Clary, with a small but genuine smile. She pats the chair beside hers.

The smile that brightens Isabelle’s face in return makes all of it worth it: the weird feeling of not quite belonging, the fear of never being in the right world at the right time, the whole year of missed Sunday dinners like this one. Here I am, think Clary. Home. What’s a little unease, compared to the joy of being part of the gang again (at the wedding, right before she forgot all about them, Simon dubbed them all – Iz, Alec, Magnus, Jace, Clary, and himself – the Gang, which is pretty tame compared to, let’s say, _Champagne Enema_ ).

The others are still inside, but she catches bits and pieces of their laughs and bickering from her temporary retreat on the balcony. Nothing has changed out here, from what she can remember (and she can, how amazing is that?) She does not have to wonder what has been moved or replaced, what is new and what was here the last time she visited the loft. The balcony has miraculously escaped Magnus’s redecorating tendencies. It is comforting.

‘I needed a bit of fresh air. It is … a lot, you know.’ Clary says as her friend sits down next to her, even if Isabelle would never ask for an explanation.

‘I’m glad you came today,’ is all she answers. ‘I missed you. We all did.’ Isabelle opens and closes her mouth, seemingly lost for words. But as plain as the statement is, it is obvious that she means it in the most profound way. Clary was _missed_ , deeply.

She cannot begin to imagine what it feels like to have somebody she loves just there around the corner, unreachable nonetheless. To wonder if you are going to bump into the other in the streets, and how you are going to pretend you are a stranger, when you used to hold them in your arms.

‘I missed you too, even if I didn’t really understand what was that feeling, exactly. I knew I missed my mom, I missed Simon. I had to remind myself every morning that they were gone – dead – but at least I had some sort of explanation for the grief. You… All of you… I-’ it’s Clary’s turn not to find the appropriate words. ‘I couldn’t understand where all of this pain was coming from.’

Izzy reaches for her hand, holds it in both of hers like something precious. ‘We are here now,’ she promises.

Clary nods. She thinks they can find common ground again, all of them. A cozy, warm space between the Shadow world and the Mundane life, where they can be together and love each other. She wants that.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking about labels and Clizzy quality time.

After that family dinner, Clary gets one-on-one moments with everyone she cares about. She has a movie date with Simon, followed by a four-hour-long conversation on his couch; they fall asleep together right there.

She portals to the Louvre with Magnus. They spend most of the tour renting about the lack of women and people of color on the walls, and wondering about the percentage of stolen goods in there. She visits Maryse’s shop and leaves with a pile of books and a stock of motherly affection. She goes hiking with Luke and fuck, she is out of shape. She gets back on that with Alec and some sparring in the New York Institute, where she notices the bewildered looks but manages to avoid engaging with the few familiar faces. She has a much-needed talk with Jace about what he means to her. She even goes to Taki’s to catch up with Maia and to taste the Fairchild Salad.

She does not know why she keeps Izzy for last.

That is a lie; she knows perfectly well that the woman threatens the control Clary has on her body and mind. She knows Izzy can get the secrets out of her like nobody else (even Simon). She feels vulnerable like she could reveal too much just because brown eyes are holding hers a second too long. She is also a little scared that Isabelle is going to be upset on behalf of Jace, and she does not want to explain. She also desperately wants to explain.

Big breath, big smile. She knocks on Izzy’s bedroom door at the Institute.

She is instantly welcomed with a hug and a cry of excitement. ‘Finally!’ Isabelle exclaims. ‘You know, I was wondering when it would be my turn to get some Clary-bonding-time.’ She says it as a joke, but Clary silently berates herself. She did not even think about how it would make the other feel.

‘It’s OK. I don’t mind. The most important thing is that you are here tonight!’ Iz kindly reassures her.Tugged by the hand, Clary follows her in the bedroom, and the sight punches a surprised laugh out of her. On the bed lay two matching pajamas and fuzzy socks, as well as a generous spread of junk food. A laptop seems ready for TV show binging, and a dozen pillows are scattered on the floor. Neatly folded blankets on a chair complete the scenery. The contrast with the gloomy atmosphere of the Institute room is a little grotesque.

‘Is that too much?’ The brunette asks nervously. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have asked Simon for advice…’ Clary lets loose her brightest smile and reassures her: ‘Naah. It’s good. We’re gonna have fun!’

Simon would be happy to know that during this sleepover, a pound of chocolate is eaten, gossip is exchanged and nail polish is getting spread on each other’s toes. It feels light and easy, like the two women need to warm up before diving into the tough subjects.

‘So… Isabelle Lightwood, Head of the New York Institute, huh?

’Yeah, and damn good at it! But it’s only temporary. I took over after Alec left for Idris. We are actually waiting for Lydia to take back the job. She just needs to finish something in Barcelona first… I can’t wait for her arrival, I honestly miss my lab too much – d’you want with or without glitter?’

Soon they are lying on an assortment of pillows and letting the mood darken as their feet shine next to one another.Clary wants to let Izzy lead and decide the pace of what needs to be said, but never has anyone called Clary a coward, so after a few beats she asks:

‘How is Jace?’

Izzy hums and takes the time to think about it.

‘He has been heartbroken for a year, so you breaking up with him could have been the last straw for him. But whatever you said, it seemed to have given him the certainty that you still love him, even if you aren’t in love with him anymore. He just needs time to process.’Clary does not comment. It is not really an answer, but it would probably be a bit too much to ask for reassurance from your ex-boyfriend’s sister after the break-up. Instead, she says: ‘He waited enough for me. I didn’t want to give him hope that it will be back like before, if he hangs around long enough.’She picks at a lint on her sock.

‘Did Jace tell you what I said?’Izzy shakes her head, and Clary gets stuck a second on shiny hair bouncing around.

‘Not really. He just said that you both needed to move on. I think you did good, Clary. He seems weirdly okay. Sad, but not devastated.’Isabelle tries to explain what she saw in her brother. Even as he was crying, mourning a relationship he spent a year desperately keeping alive by himself, he seemed more balanced, less frantic. Like finally he could let go a little.

‘I want my brother to be happy, but I don’t want it to be at the price of your own happiness, Clary.’Clary feels her whole body relax at this declaration. There is still something she wants to say, though, and a different kind of nervousness grips her.

‘I am never going to be a shadowhunter again either.’ She confesses quietly. She feels Isabelle turning on the bed. Clary turns her head and looks at her friend’s kind face. ‘I know,’ Isabelle answers.

*

Izzy’s phone is ringing from somewhere under the mountain of paperwork that being the Head of an Institute requires to process on a weekly basis. Jace is in the room, lounging on the couch, and he watches his sister move piles around until she can dig up her cell. He sees her grimace a little and side-eye him before she picks up. Clary, then. He rolls his eyes at Izzy. Everybody is treating him like a fragile maiden. He gets up and gestures his intention to leave and get lost, mostly for her sake. He has a class with trainees in half an hour anyway.

If someone told him a year ago that he would witness Clary remember everything again, and that he would be relatively okay with not being her lover, he would have been offended. But his discussion with Clary made him think that what they had – still have – is precious and good, but that they made it unnecessarily intense. From being strangers to becoming a couple too soon to being brother and sister to being a couple back again to being separated by some revengeful and illogical fucking angels, it was, let’s be honest, a shit show. Everything got mixed up, every feeling overlapping with each other. He loves her. She is still part of him. Sometimes he thinks that his soul does not belong to only himself and his _parabatai_ , but that it is split between all the people that made him who he is. Not to be sappy, but even goddamn Simon Lewis probably owns a chunk of it.

As Jace reaches the training room and starts warming up, he thinks back to what Clary said. ‘I am happy we were together. It made me love you, cherish you, understand you. It made me stronger and more confident when I was pretty lost.’

He feels a little shame that he did not try to understand her better then. That he did not wonder more about what they were both feeling. But he cannot change this part of their relationship. It’s done. He can only be better moving forward. Jace gave her comfort and protection. Clary gave him growth. They made mistakes together, they both hurt people and each other, but they also loved so much. Unconditionally. That doesn’t go away just because you don’t have sex or romance anymore, he’s pretty sure.

Jace never does introspection too long; that’s a good thing, because soon a bunch of teenagers are interrupting his musing. It’s time to make them weep.

*

At first, Clary thinks that the particular kind of longing she feels when she looks at Simon and Isabelle together is because she never had such a relation. Something born out of a choice and certainty, instead of circumstances and need for comfort. She loved Jace, she loved Simon. She just did not choose the way she would express this love. The first man was the savior, the reassuring beacon in a terrifying new reality. The second was the warm blanket, the old friend, the one she knew was safe and good. Both of them gave her happiness and intimacy. Tenderness and passion. She lived all of that through them and she does not regret it. But during her year away as a mundane, she learned a lot about herself. Maybe because everything was a little foggy in her mind (the shock of losing loved ones so brutally, her counselor explained), she had to redefine who she was.

In art school she was catapulted with a bunch of people who explored who they were as artists, as human beings, as lovers and friends. Sex was a recurring topic. She listened and absorbed, compared every tidbit of information with her own limited experience. Her relationships with Simon and Jace being erased, she could just think back to high school: Noah and then Alice, a lot of fumbling but sweet overall.

It was thanks to one of these conversations about love and lust and sex that she figured out why the labels she tried on always felt too tight for her. Bisexual? Pansexual? She did not know why these didn’t feel right, but they did not. Strangely, she liked ‘lesbian’ better, but she enjoyed sex with Noah as much as she did with Alice. She liked touching and being touched, she liked discovering new sensations in her body, she liked the nakedness, both physical and emotional. She liked everything around the sex in itself – kissing until you felt all warm; undressing each other and discovering new shapes and feelings; getting dressed again mid-afternoon, before the parents would come home. One label she never tried out, because she enjoyed sex and never thought too much about the why and the how. But then someone was talking about being horny and desperate for a one night stand to ease the hunger. ‘What about you, Clary? Do you wanna go out tonight and have fun?’

Clary was touch-starved and she also wanted to let herself just be for one hour. Even one minute outside of her own mind would have been nice, actually. She wanted to go out and have fun. She would not mind feeling pretty and meeting people either. But the thought of fucking a stranger did not feel like it would help. It was troubling, so she declined, and thought about it instead of diving head first in action for once. She thought about the kind of touch she craved, the kind of life she pictured for herself. Sex did not have much of a place in it. It felt like … going swimming: something she enjoyed doing on occasion but that mostly asked too much effort, preparation and time for the actual pay off. Something she would do if the company was good and she was asked to join.

So, she said to herself ‘I think I’m asexual’ and the label rang true, for the first time. She read and read and read about it and she soon could say without hesitation: ‘I’m ace.’ She liked it. She kept it. The word was just right there, all this time, but now it was hers and she was going to keep it for as long as it was making her feel good.

So, yeah, at first Clary thinks the particular kind of longing she feels when she looks at Simon and Isabelle together is because she never had such a relationship. However, she has a lot going on in her life – painting, her classes, her mundane friends, her Shadow World family – so she puts it aside. Love will come when it will come.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we learn more about Simon and Izzy's relationship.  
> Clary tries to figure out what she wants (with a little help).

Izzy wakes up slowly and then all at once as usual, in her Institute bedroom. She was supposed to spend the night at Si’s, but after her first week back as the chief medical examiner as well as the weapon master, she had too much on her plate for their date. Around one in the morning, she went straight from her lab to her bed, taking just the time to remove her make-up and brush her teeth.

She feels better after a good eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. She does not have a shift today, so she will catch up with Simon during lunch and then enjoy her Tuesday afternoon doing whatever she fancies.

She puts on sweatpants and one of Simon’s t-shirt stolen from his drawer, and she takes a few minutes to check her phone. She has several unread texts from her boyfriend.

Si:

_OK no prob I can meet you at 12 tmrw. Don’t work too late u need sleep too_

Si:

_good night ttys_

_love you_

Si:

_crap forgot to tell u_

_Lily wants to talk to Lydia and u before the next official downworld cabinet meeting_

_anyway sorry ur probably sleeping now anyway_

_love u!_

Izzy smiles at this avalanche of messages from her excitable boyfriend, and texts back:

_Good morning, love you too, I’ll tell Lydia. See you at 12!_

A few hours later, all put together in a beautiful but comfortable dress, Izzy arrives first at the café. They both like the place, thanks to the delicious sandwiches and even better coffee for her, thanks to the coziness of the space for Simon. It is also run by a Seelie and made repellant to Mundanes; so that’s a perk. She orders her lunch and waits for her date to join her, her back to the door, nose buried in her current book of poetry (Cesare Pavese, it makes her dream of travels, sun and dusty roads).

She hums contently when she feels Simon kiss her on the top of her head, and she puts her book away while he gives her a dorky little wave as he sits down opposite to her.

‘Hi Si. How was your practice this morning?’ She lets him describe in painful details his hurdles and progress regarding his set list for a concert next Friday, while she eats a delicious and hopefully terrestrial vegetarian sandwich. Isabelle loves these moments where she can put aside responsibilities and take the time to be a woman in love. It has always been important to her, this side of hers. The seductress, the flirt, the lover. The one who would flaunt her body, who would be looked at and look back just as much. The one who would appear unidimensional if you did not bother to look behind the exterior but who would give you so much love and kindness if you truly wanted to discover her and if you treated her with respect. She is still mostly the same on that front, but with Simon she gives and receives more love and kindness than ever.

Right now, she basks in the domesticity of the moment. Simon has intertwined his legs with hers and they talk about their past week.

She is a little quiet today. And as much as everybody likes to tease Simon about his blabbering and other self-centered tendencies, he is also surprisingly intuitive.

‘Are you okay, Iz? You seem a little … preoccupied these days?’ he finally asks. He knows how she overworks herself when she needs to take her focus off something else. She gets a self esteem boost when she solves work problems, so it is a pretty good strategy. For a while.

‘Yeah. I mean, I had to work a lot this week, but it should get back to normal really soon. I still need to tidy the lab server… Dmitri really fucked with my filing system while I was Acting Head. Ugh.’ Isabelle answers. Simon looks at her with a look of fond exasperation, which could mean anything between _You and your filing systems_ to _I know you are bullshitting me and that’s okay because you don’t need to talk to me if you don’t wanna_.

Isabelle actually does not need more to prompt her into admitting:

‘OK, yeah, I’ve been avoiding thinking about stuff.’

‘Like…?’

‘Clary stuff. I think.’

Simon sighs a quiet Oh.

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ he asks.

Izzy declines. Not yet. She needs to figure out what it is that is bothering her first, she thinks. Maybe she can talk about it at her next AA meeting? She has been feeling restless since Clary has been back. Happy, relieved, hopeful, but also … inexplicably upset. It will be difficult, as usual, to confide in her mundane AA group when she has to tell so many white lies to hide any supernatural context, but it still helps.

Simon gently pries her hand from her cup and kisses it in the middle of the palm. ‘I’m here if and when you want to talk about it.’

Soon, they take their stuff and go for a walk until it is time for Simon to leave to deal with something clan-related. They wander in the streets hand in hand, chatting happily.

‘Do you have a date with Meliorn soon?’

‘Nah.’ Izzy answers easily. At first, it was a little strange to talk about him with Si, but now it is part of their relationship. They realized quickly that transparency was better for them. They do not share intimate details that would feel disrespectful to anyone, but they do not hide anything either. For example, she knows that right now, Simon has a crush on a girl from one of his night classes, and that he is testing the waters. Isabelle herself reconnected with Meliorn not too long ago.

These days, though, Isabelle does not feel like stepping in the Seelie realm. Just thinking of trying to decipher the knight’s truthful but convoluted statements is already exhausting. She will know when it is time to seek him again. It helps that he has his own sense of time – he feels perfectly fine with waiting for her to come back to him.

Meliorn fulfills her in ways that she has trouble explaining, and she is happy that she dared admit to herself and to Simon that she missed him. She is so very grateful as well that Si did not leave her right here and then, but rather listened and suggested polyamory. He vaguely knew what it entailed, so they looked into it together. ‘Learning together, right?’ he said to her. They even read books and asked around (it is helpful that immortal beings experiment outside of social norms and that a few of them are their friends). It is still new, still a little fragile, but they talk about it and they agree on the rules and amendments of the rules together. Though the one rule that actually could almost sum up all the other is: talk first.

Izzy always thought that she would get the flings and the dates and the sex out of her system, and then she would meet a guy and settle down. Simon was entirely worth the change of pace and the commitment. From the youngest age, it was drilled into her brain that she could either die a lonely soldier, or create a family and stick to it. But looking at Alec and Magnus, and then at her mom leaving her dad and falling in love again, she figured that there was nothing wrong with creating something different. That commitment could be made differently.

*

‘Good color work, Clary. Pay more attention to the overview, though.’

Clary steps back from her easel and assess her painting. She can see what the teacher means. She looks more widely at the scene in front of her, the two models frozen into a relaxed pose, the way the light makes one big shape from the shoulders of one to the hips of the other – yeah, she needs a solid background to frame the bodies. With just a few strokes of her big brush it works much better. When the teacher makes another round and walks behind her, she gets an approving nod.

She loses herself in the succession of positions. At the end of the class, everybody clean their stations. ‘Fray! Drinks tonight?’ Her friend Joy calls from a few feet away. Clary smiles at her. ‘Yeah, sure. Let me just return my stuff to my shelf upstairs?’ Joy finishes rolling her sheets of paper together. ‘No problem, I need to talk to Mrs. Howard anyway. Let’s meet out front, yeah?’

When Clary exits first the main hall and goes into the street, she is met with the stunning picture of Izzy leaning against a tree, almost glowing in the late afternoon sunlight and playing with her stele. She pockets it when she sees her friend, smiles and joins her.

‘Hi. Thought I would see if you wanted to do something together. Simon gave me your hours.’ Izzy says. As Clary is about to answer, Joy pops beside her and introduces herself.

‘Hello, Clary’s beautiful friend! I’m Joy, pronouns are she and her. Wanna come for drinks with us?’ She holds her hand out. Izzy chuckles and takes it. ‘Isabelle. Nice to meet you. Clary?’ she turns to the redhead with a lift of her eyebrow. ‘I wouldn’t want to impose if you had plans.’ But her face says that she would love to come.

Clary feels a little winded with the change of plans. Izzy and Joy in the same conversation means that her mundane life and her Shadow world life collide suddenly. It will take her a minute to adapt, but she realizes that she wants both of them to live in the same world. Joy knows that she lost her mom, her father figure and her best friend; it is one thing they have – had – in common, the lack of family around, Joy having been cut off from hers a couple years ago when she came out. Joy is the person she likes the most from her new life, and she hates the distance that she has had to keep between them. First because of all the pain and confusion, then because of the secrets. Sharing Izzy with her for a moment would be a step in the right direction. ‘Let’s go,’ she says, and Joy whoops, and Izzy laughs.

The three of them go to the usual pub a block away from the school. Soon they are sitting down with two beers and an iced tea at a small table in the back. Clary bits her lip, a little nervous now. The atmosphere is relaxed between her two friends, though, so she tries to put aside her worries.

‘So, Isabelle, how do you know our little Clary?’ Joy asks right after they cheer with their glasses. Clary winces. Every question is going to be met with a lie. She should have said no. But, oblivious to her concerns, Izzy answers nonchalantly. ‘She dated my brother for a while and we became good friends.’ They also fought a war together, Clary snarks internally. Joy frowns. Probably because she never heard anything about that, and that she noticed how isolated her friend has felt the past year. Clary can feel the protectiveness ooze from her, so she adds in a hurry: ‘We had a very dramatic break up and I kinda wanted to forget about the whole family.’ The irony of the phrasing is not lost on her. ‘But I got over it not long ago. I’m glad I did, because Iz is awesome,’ she ends firmly. Izzy lightly squeezes her hand. ‘I’m happy you came back to us.’

The obvious fondness of her tone placates Joy, who switches to anecdotes about their classes. Clary gets quickly embarrassed and Izzy highly amused.

Clary takes the back seat in the conversation, as the other two do not need help finding topics – like teasing her on her short temper (particularly when she smells just a hint of injustice), best thrift shops in Brooklyn, or men who never know when to shut up.

Clary should have known that her reprieve would be short-lived. Joy is a complex human being, very respectful of people’s boundaries but also very annoying when she sniffs something juicy. In this case, Clary’s unclear feelings about Izzy. Once they separate from the brunette, she grabs Clary by the elbow with an evil glint in the eye, as they start walking to the nearest subway entrance. ‘So… Izzy, hm?’ There are two roads Clary can take, here. She can either ask Joy to drop it, and she will, at least for tonight, or she can use this as an opportunity to maybe try to attempt to begin to sort through her own feelings. Yeah, okay, who is she kidding? She wants to talk about it, or she is gonna explode.

‘Let’s talk about it at my place with a pizza,’ she says, ignoring the happy shriek coming from her right.

Couch under her butt, Joy on her left, cheese right ahead, Clary mulls her words over. She does not really know where to start. There is one question she would really, really like to ask, but it feels so very childish: do you think she likes me back? But then there is all the complexity of the situation, the relationships being all tangled up. The best friend also being the ex-boyfriend, the crush being the sister of an ex who was a brother at some point, it sounds like maybe she should look elsewhere for romantic prospects, right? Soon it will start looking like a CW show, Jesus.

‘Hey girl, just talk to me, I don’t judge, but I care,’ Joy interrupts her softly.

‘Okay. Yeah, you’re right. Hm…’

She gestures helplessly. Joy rolls her eyes and comes to the rescue.

‘Do you like Isabelle?’ Right to the point as always. It is a very easy question, even if the implications of the answer are not.

‘I do. I do like her, so much.’

‘Did you like her when you were with her brother?’ Joy continues.

‘No!’ Clary protests. ‘Well. I mean. I liked her, for sure. I admired her. She was my friend. But I didn’t think of her like that. Like someone I wanted to be with.

’And now you do.’ It is not a question, but Clary answers anyway, softening her tone.

‘I do. I see her and I want to touch her. I want her to rely on me, and I want her to comfort me. I just … want her, so much.’ Clary thinks back to the moment when her brain court-circuited and she thought that for the first time. It was something ordinary, just Izzy laughing at something she said, but it was like everything she ever felt for the girl was highlighted differently. Friendship, kinship, love were still there as it had always been, except now it was with purpose, with a new intensity. But…

‘But it is complicated. She has a boyfriend, which is not a problem in itself, because they are not exclusive. He told me. Because her boyfriend happens to be my childhood friend, by the way. They are both open to other relationships. But it doesn’t mean that they would be okay with one of them being with me.’ Now that she has started somewhere, it is like she cannot stop the words from falling out of her mouth.

‘And they are so good together, you should see them. And happy! I’m afraid to mess it up. Well, that would be if Izzy was actually into me, which frankly I doubt. So yeah, suppose she likes me back? It can mess so many things up. But suppose she doesn’t? I could lose all of them anyway. Things would change between Iz and me, Simon would be upset I am in love with his girlfriend, Jace would be hurt because I chose his sister over him, and Alec would be so mad at me for hurting Jace, and Magnus would probably side with his husband and I just got them back!’

Now she is pacing and yelling a little. Joy gets up and catches her hand as it moves around widely. ‘I get it, sweetie, it’s complicated. Let’s breathe a little, and sit back down, okay?’ she asks kindly.

So they do. Clary with tears in her eyes, and Joy with worry in hers.

‘Look. I don’t know all these people, so maybe you are right, maybe you could lose them. But I don’t think it is anyone’s business except Isabelle and yours. And by the way, she likes you a lot too. Like, I could feel the love between you two. Honestly, from what I could see tonight, she seems like the type to hear you out, at least. Maybe it won’t result in a big gay love or something, but you won’t know if you don’t talk, right?’

But what if…

‘And I am not sure I followed everything, but you are also worried that her boyfriend will be angry at you for being in love with her?’ At the tiny nod from Clary, Joy sighs and pushes on. ‘You can’t help your feelings, love. If he is angry about what you feel, he is wrong. As long as you don’t act on your feelings without talking to them first, I think you’re good.’

‘So what, I should just come up to her and say, “Hi, I’m in love with you, what are we gonna do about it”?’

‘Yep. That’s exactly what I’m saying, youngling.’

‘God you’re weird.’ Clary sighs fondly. Joy smiles at her, and adds one last observation.

‘From what you’re telling me, you can’t fix it by yourself alone, except if you try to ignore what you are feeling. But honey you are terrible at hiding anything.’

And so, it is with a little bit of hope and a mental list that Clary goes to bed. Talk to Izzy, talk to Jace, talk to Simon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my OC (Joy), and my interprentation of Simon and Izzy's relationship ! Thank you for reading :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets sappy.

It’s been a good month. Izzy gets back to her happy place at work as the weapon master ‘slash’ chief medical examiner, she has found a good routine with Simon, her family is definitely happier these days, she is more than a year and a half clean and sober, she is goddamn thriving. She has Clary back, too. They see each other a lot. Mostly they just hang out in the Institute or in the student’s tiny place, watching movies, playing video games (because you cannot be Simon’s best friend and Simon’s girlfriend and not have video games around), reading together, sharing diners or late lunches. Sometimes other people join them: Joy, Si, Luke, Alec (once). But mostly, it is the two of them in a little bubble. It does not surprise anyone around: they wanted to be _parabatai_ once.

So, yeah, good month all around. At this precise moment, Isabelle is waking up in her boyfriend’s arms, thinking about all this, and she is a little cold. Thanks to a Stealth rune, she extracts herself without waking Simon up. She grabs one of his shirts, discovers her panties under it, puts both on. First, coffee. Ten minutes later, she is bringing one coffee, one bowl of cereals and one glass of blood to the bed. Breakfast in bed is pretty gross when you are in a relationship with a vampire, but she likes it nonetheless. The only rule is ‘no kissing till you brush your teeth’. She gives him a peck to wake him up, though.

‘You look cute,’ he says, half awake. He is one to talk: bed hair, pink on the cheeks, nice chest on display, he is quite a sight. She tells him as much.

People sometimes think she is all sharp heels and wit, but she is also soft and loving, and Simon let her be that way from as long as she remembers. That is it: he lets her be. He told her that because he has a tendency to fall in love with ideas of people rather than people themselves, he just wants her to be her own person. He likes discovering new sides of her. It makes it more real for him when she surprises him. Simon finds her hot when she is all barefaced and honest. He also likes her when she goes all-out seductress, even if he is still as clumsy as ever when it is directed at him.

Right now, he has his hand on her back under her shirt, and his thumb is caressing her spine. 

‘So, night shift, right? What are you gonna do today?’ he asks. She shrugs a little. No definite plans, for once. 

‘No plans with Clary?’ There is something in his tone that makes her pause. ‘No, why?’

‘I don’t know, you’ve been seeing a lot of her lately.’ Still something is weird in his voice, something cautious, maybe. So, of course, it gets her to snap at him. ‘So what?’ 

Simon’s expression falls, as does his hand, the happy quiet atmosphere is no longer. ‘I mean, nothing, it’s fine by me, I am happy if you’re both happy, like the two of you, together or – or separately you know, it’s just – ’ he blurts all that and then stops, looks at his hands, take a deep breath (it’s a habit, he does not need to breathe, Isabelle mindlessly notes), and then, in a sigh and with a wince for good measure, ‘I wondered if maybe you liked her’. 

He doesn’t need to say more, and she is not going to affront him by pretending she does not understand what he means. She just stays there, seated on his bed, absorbing the shock. Her voice is tiny when she says, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t have to be sorry Iz.’ He gets closer again, enough to be tickled by a lock of her hair that has fallen from her messy bun. ‘So you do like her, then.’

He does not sound judgmental or hurt. Clary Fray makes her happy, and Simon noticed, and that is it. As simple as that?

‘You don’t mind that it’s Clary?’ She needs to be sure.

‘I think it makes sense. And I am not in love with her anymore. I am not jealous if you are.’

She wraps herself around him, holding him close and hiding her face in his shoulder. They will have to talk about it more, and she is not sure yet if she wants to act on her romantic feelings for the redhead, that is another kind of fear to face, but for now, it is alright. She and Simon are alright.

*

The urge to call Izzy babe or sweet face or my love or anything ridiculous like that is getting stronger and stronger. Right now, it is ‘angel’ she feels on the tip of her tongue, as she is looking at her friend next to her on the couch. She would like to get her sketchbook and draw Isabelle’s sleeping face. Her eyelashes and the shadow underneath; the half opened red lips; the plaid covering her combat clothes but not her bare shoulders. She watches her and draws her in her mind, and it makes her feel a bit creepy, but if she moves, if she gets up, if she stops drinking in this beauty, she is going to wake up Izzy. And Izzy is tired. She came straight from a patrol, because she was in the neighborhood, she said. She asked for a tea and a short pause before she would come back to the institute. Now, the mug is empty, and the short pause has become a nap.

Clary gets worried about her friends, now that she has a little more perspective. She thinks about the Lightwoods going to battle as impulsive and vulnerable teenagers, about Simon who had to give up his mom, about all of them risking their lives to save New Yorkers and the world. She worries that they don’t sleep enough, don’t eat enough, don’t get enough hobbies. But she keeps all of that to herself, because she does not have the right to say anything, and because they all seem as happy as humans – and human-ish people – can be. All of them are a bit fucked up, a bit unstable, but then who isn’t? Even her privileged, boring, mundane friends have their problems: addictions, depressions, childhood traumas and such.

Right now, though, Clary can do something about her worries: let Izzy sleep, watch over her until she wakes up, and make her eat a good meal before sending her home. Or even better, getting her tucked right here in her own bed, so that Iz does not have to go back into the cold night. Yeah. That is a good plan.

It has been half an hour and Clary’s leg is cramped. So she gently moves her body from under Izzy’s legs, and she puts a careful hand on the other’s shoulder.

‘Izzy … hey, angel, wake up,’ she whispers. Isabelle stirs, opens her eyes and squints. It’s cute. The groan getting out of her has a kind of interrogative tone, so Clary adds, ‘You should eat something, come on, and then you’ll sleep.’ A little humph is all she gets in return. So one more pat on Izzy’s shoulder, and she is gone to the tiny kitchen corner, to cook some pasta with tomato sauce and a lot of cheese.

*

With her stomach full of good pasta, Izzy feels a little bit better. The world around seems less blurry, and even if she is still tired, she is not about to keel over on the way home. She says that to Clary, but the redhead is stubborn (what’s new?) and Izzy does not really want to convince her anyway. She likes it here. It smells a little of turpentine and that lavender oil Clary uses in her oil paintings, even though Clary never paints in here. It is always warm because the neighbors overheat their apartment. The kitchen table is terrible and wobbly, so they usually eat on the floor, or on the couch. They have to sit so close to fit together that they often touch naturally. Izzy has not spent much time in the bedroom, more of a bed closet actually, but she catches glimpses of it every time she comes, the door always ajar, and it looks inviting. Not only because it is Clary’s bed and it must smell like her, but also because it is covered with a colorful blanket that looks really soft.

There is a small discussion about who sleeps where, couch vs. bed, _I’m a warrior, Clary, I can sleep on a couch for one night!_ and after a couple of eye rolls and playful swats, they agree on sharing the bed. The tiny, soft bed that is definitely not made for more than one person.

That night would probably be a good moment to confess stuff to Clary. The darkness could be comforting, because she would not have to see the impact of her words. She would whisper, and it would be perfect. But Izzy gets scared. She feels hot and cold at the same time, she turns her words over and over in her head until it does not feel like English anymore. So she just burrows under the cover (really soft as predicted) and she lets it go.

*

At some point the women realize that to fit comfortably, they need to hold on to each other. They briefly wake up a couple of times each in the night, and the distance between them is shorter and shorter every time. Clary’s back against Izzy’s front, Izzy’s arms around Clary’s stomach, Clary’s hand over Izzy’s. Hair getting tangled up – locks of rust and black. If they could see themselves from above, they would see what a pretty picture they make. But at that point, they are deeply asleep, their bodies completely relaxed. They fit.

*

An alarm clock is ringing from somewhere, but it is programmed as bird chirping, so it is not a bad way to wake up. Being smushed against Clary’s back is not too bad either. Izzy smiles against her skin, she feels the warmth of her friend all around her, she would like to stay right here for a few more hours, please and thank you. But Clary is waking up as well, and it is her alarm, so she must have things to do, places to be, people to draw. Izzy is about to untangle herself from limbs and sheets, albeit reluctantly, when Clary tightens her hold on her hand. ‘Not yet,’ she murmurs. Izzy settles back, she does not have to be asked twice. She hears a happy sigh and a tiny ‘I like that’ from the other girl.

With a raspy voice, Clary keeps talking. ‘I like when you touch me… I like when you hold me. I wish I could explain how I need you to keep holding me. And every time we see each other again, at first I am floored because you are so beautiful. Like I forget how much when you are away. And then you embrace me or you kiss my cheek and you feel real and tangible and I can relax.’

Izzy is frozen in place, but Clary is talking and there is so much tenderness, and a little desperation when she talks, that Izzy does not even think of interrupting her. Instead, she kisses her lightly on the neck, just below her hairline.

‘I am so afraid that I am going to forget you again. I can’t go back, I can’t… I don’t want to forget you, or your laugh, or your smell, or anything at all that makes you, you. Please don’t let me forget you…’

The awe in Clary’s voice has been replaced by pure fear. It is heartbreaking, but also … logical. The fear of losing control of your mind again, and worse than that, having your sense of self altered in such a violent way… Izzy would like to promise and protect but she cannot. Although, she can cherish. She can be brave. She moves her hand to Clary’s chest, just under her collarbone, trying to infuse some warmth and love because she is not sure her words will do it right.

‘I don’t want you to forget me,’ she whispers. ‘But if you do I’ll reintroduce myself to you, I swear.’

She peppers Clary’s skin (the small square she can access at least) with little kisses, and this is definitely not friendly, but neither is telling someone ‘I like when you touch me’, so she feels confident that it is the right thing to do.

As if reading her mind, Clary relaxes in her arms and sighs. ‘I like that,’ she states again.

‘I like you,’ Isabelle says, matter-of-factly. ‘I want to be with you,’ she adds. She has stopped her kisses; something that important to say deserves to be said with her whole attention. ‘I want to be your girlfriend,’ she finally says.

The bubble of quiet bursts as Clary moves and turns clumsily to face her. One elbow hits a stomach, but Izzy is too busy freaking out to notice. She focuses on the other’s face, which looks … happy? Elated even? Clary has a pillow mark imprinted on her face, hair like a bird’s nest and some gunk in her eye. She is beautiful. ‘I want to be your girlfriend too,’ she says. Something clouds her face briefly, but she seems to put it aside for the time being.

‘I need to go to class. You need to go to the Institute. We’ll have to talk about that later because it’s complicated. But I mean it, though. I want that. I like you,’ then, after a little pause: ‘I am in love with you.’

Izzy closes her eyes. She cannot say it back, not yet, even if she wants to. Instead, she kisses Clary’s brow, smiles softly at her, and promises: ‘It is complicated but we’ll figure it out.’ In a second she is standing upright in her borrowed pajama, and back to her energetic, restless self. ‘Do you have time for breakfast?’

*

Clary is a little distracted the whole day. She replays the morning in her head, starting with the way her brain-to-mouth filter had forgotten to turn itself on as she woke up with a warm body plastered against her back. The words just fell. She cannot really believe that Isabelle just – she reciprocated, right? She did? – her feelings. Clary feels like something should go wrong now, to counterbalance this happiness. She knows telling Izzy is only one step in this; but the most important, the one condition to start with every other step.

Still scared, but much more hopeful, she conjures feelings of featherlike kisses on her skin and analyzes again what she saw. When she told Isabelle that she was in love – go big or go home – she saw everything play out on her face: surprise (inhale); vertigo (eyes closed); and bliss as the words probably finally sunk in Izzy’s mind (shiny eyes, wide open). This last look is what makes Izzy’s lack of response bearable: even if Isabelle Lightwood is not in love with Clary Fray, she is delighted to be loved by her.

Clary Fray who is usually one of the most engaged students of the class, stays in the back today. She draws, she takes notes, she conceptualizes as required, but she is on autopilot, and she knows she will need to go over it all over again to make something out of all of it. She checks her phone for texts so much she can see the time slow down. She does not know what she expects. In her mind, in a loop is the sentence that she thinks she should have said this morning too. I’m ace. I’m ace I’m ace I’m ace, going and going round. It makes her feel like she lied, like what she presented to Isabelle this morning was false advertising, instead of the most vulnerability she ever put in the hands of somebody.

Finally, an incoming text in the afternoon changes the course of her rumination: Simon, asking if she wants to chill later? _– Sure!_ she answers before sending a smiling emoji that straight up contradicts her anxious state. _Cool I’ll pick u up at 6 wait for me outside the school xx_ , she gets in return.

*

Simon’s leg threatens to bounce up and down as he drives back to his place with a silent Clary on his side. He forces it to stay in place because the van would not appreciate his shaking on the clutch pedal. He knows that his nerves are showing and making Clary’s ten times worse. There is just no manual on _How to talk to your best friend about their relationship with your girlfriend_. Even that sounds ominous, maybe he just needs _I’m poly and happy to be. How to balance friendship and love in the same triad, the Memoir_. He’ll probably have to write it, though.

‘So how was class?’ he blurts like an awkward dad. That must be Clary’s sentiment exactly, because she looks at him with a _really, dude?!_ kind of face. He grimaces, apologetic, and she starts giggling as Simon swerves the car a tiny bit too close to the sidewalk. Soon she is full on laughing, and the tension dissipates as he cannot help joining her.

‘This is new, uh?’ she points out as her laughter dies down. ‘Yop. Never done _that_ before,’ he says casually. That’s one of the good things with old friends: sometimes, you don’t need to say the obvious, like ‘I know you confessed your love to my girlfriend last night and that’s okay.’

They just found a parking spot not far from Simon’s apartment building, so he stops the motor, takes the keys and plays with them for a second in the silent vehicle. On his right, Clary waits, she must sense that something wants to come out of him, as he can sense without watching her that she wants to reach out to him. For once, he does not overcompensate his inability to find the right words by more words. He reaches out himself to take her hand. Meeting her eyes, he smiles at her with his big toothy smile that makes him look perfectly dumb now that he has pointy canines. The smiles he gets in return warms his whole body.

*

As she takes a moment in front of the coffee shop, Izzy is suddenly uncertain. This is a first date as she never had one, really. With Simon the circumstances were peculiar (with her whole lighting-on-fire-when-kissed thing and then the familiarity of spending nights together setting in even before they were in the mood for romantic outings). The first date jitters are something she never thought she would experience herself. Even if she has already spent countless hours in Clary’s company, tonight is charged with something else. It feels a little like a test. If it does not go well tonight, then what?

But when she gets inside the small mundane coffee shop and she sees Clary raise her head from her phone and smile brightly at her instinctively, the uncomfortable feeling of apprehension transforms itself into giddy excitement.

She feels herself blushing, but she winks through it with a cheeky wave, before getting to the counter for her order.

‘So, ready to nerd out, Iz?’ is the first thing the redhead says to her when she sits down. After their coffee, they will visit a public show of a private archeological collection – some adventurous British spinster from the 19th century had gathered one of the most impressive collections from Asia during her lifetime. Now her great-great-great-nephew or something decided to show it in New York one last time, before returning it to museums in the countries of origin.

Isabelle has been promised traditional jewelry and costumes, and a well-documented selection of weapons and tools. Hell yeah, she’s gonna nerd out! She was pleasantly surprised when Clary suggested this as a first date. She was expecting maybe drinks or a restaurant.

‘I wanted something more special that we would both enjoy,’ Clary has shrugged when Izzy pointed it out.

They chat for a while inside the half-empty coffee shop as they sip on their drinks. It is not that different from every other discussions they had for the past few months: getting reacquainted with each other and exchanging jokes. Today, though, Izzy does not have to filter her enamored looks or to second-guess herself about what she says.

‘Should we go?’ Clary is on her feet and extending her hand to her. Isabelle pretends not to notice her slight trembling. She makes it disappear anyway as she takes the hand and lets herself get pulled up. The movement brings her face very close to Clary’s, and even though she smoothly gets a step further to take her coat, now kissing is going to be on her mind the rest of the day.

They walk to the gallery as it is close enough, hand in hand, not talking anymore but enjoying the proximity. Before they get to their destination, Clary makes them slow down and turn left, making the stroll longer than it has to be. Izzy does not comment, but squeezes her – friend’s? girlfriend’s? – hand to encourage her.

‘I wanted to talk to you in the coffee shop but I couldn’t… I chickened out.’ Clary rushes out. Izzy is starting to get the impression that it is easier for her girlfriend (fuck it) to talk without looking at her. When she has something to say and it is scary, she needs to just say it in one piece without getting the chance to crumble in front of a disapproving face. That is why she does not give in the urge to stop and turn to Clary. Instead she starts drawing circles with her thumb on Clary’s knuckles.

‘You can tell me anything,’ she says. It sounds like a cliché but she means it. The same rule as with Simon applies: talk first.

‘It’s just… I don’t know what you want from this relationship, Iz. I hope I can give it to you.’ Izzy frowns.

‘I don’t understand. I don’t want anything in particular.’

‘I mean –’ Clary sighs, seemingly frustrated with herself.

‘Maybe you can tell me what you are willing to give, and I’ll tell you if it’s okay?’

Silence. Now they stopped on the sidewalk, but Clary’s eyes are hidden behind her bangs, so Izzy cannot catch her eyes but she looks miserable nonetheless. Izzy is struck by the thought that maybe Clary did not mean all of that, last time, that maybe she doesn’t want to be her girlfriend, and maybe calling her ‘her girlfriend’ in the privacy of her own mind was already too much too soon.

She must show, somehow, that she is panicking because suddenly Clary grabs both her hands and looks straight at her and God isn’t she pretty all red and wide-eyed.

‘Sorry I am not expressing myself properly. I’ll do it now, as plainly as I can because I feel like you need to know how I feel.’

Izzy nods.

‘I am scared that you are not gonna want me because I know you love sex and there is nothing wrong with that but I don’t. I am asexual. I don’t want to have sex with you and maybe I never will. I love you and I want you in a lot of ways, but not that one.’

Izzy releases a big breath of relief. She frees her hands from Clary’s to grab her shoulders instead, and squeezes the other woman in her arms. She laughs in red hair as she exhales. ‘It’s okay Clary, it’s fucking okay and I love you too.’ They melt into each other’s arms until they manage to separate both laughing and wiping at their eyes.

‘Now that that’s done, what do you say we go look at dead people’s stuff?’ Clary says in a wide grin.

As they get to the entrance, Clary whispers, ‘I do love kissing, though. And getting naked with people,’ effectively turning the tough warrior into a blabbering mess.

The date is a success. They get excited about different stuff but share their knowledge and awe with each other intermittently. One sketches beautiful Chinese clothes as the other inspects ceramic weaving tools. Then they join around earrings that look like nothing much but are six hundred years old. They gush together and take their separate way for a while. They go at their own speed. At some point they both get fed up with the displays, too many objects passing in front of their eyes. In a nod they decide to cut the visit short, and get back outside where the night is falling. They are hungry and do not want to end their time together right now, so before they have to be good girls and say their goodbyes, they decide to sit down somewhere. They find a small park bench after buying two muffins at a bakery conveniently spotted on the way.

They are quiet, resting their aching feet (there is a special kind of sting from sauntering inside a museum or gallery for a couple hours). It is a good way to finish a date, enjoying each other’s presence in silence.

But soon it is time to go. Izzy is waited at Taki’s for a work diner. Clary has to study. They get away from their bench, walking hand in hand again. Trying to coordinate the next time they can hang together.

The next step is easy for both of them. They don’t bother themselves with decorum or games or fears; they know what they want and they know the other wants the same. They stop at the corner they will have to go their separate way from, and Izzy steps into Clary’s space.

‘Can I kiss you?’ she asks when she gets so close that Clary feels her breath on her lips. ‘Yes, please,’ Clary whispers.

Izzy’s kiss is purposeful, tender and chaste, but direct. Lips against lips, chocolate (Izzy) and strawberries (Clary), a small pressure, and then it’s gone. They stay close, arms around each other, and they do that again. And again. For once, Clary is there and now, she feels in the right place at the right time. Izzy is full and content, and she likes that all she has to do is kiss and hold. No next move, no next step, no questions, no guessing, she stays still. They hug for a few more seconds, and then it is time to go. They go happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost the end ! This one was a bit scary to post... I wanted to make it realistic (with fears and awkwardness on all the sides) but relatively angst-free (because I don't think polyamory has to be angsty ^^).


	5. Chapter 5

_A couple months later_

In a hurry to get herself inside the Lightwood-Bane’s vestibule, Clary almost bursts through Magnus’s wards, feeling the warm lick of magic already soothe her after a harassing week of deadlines. She removes her scarf and jacket as she catches her breath.

‘Ah, you made it for dessert!’ Simon gleefully says when he is the first one to notice her from the living room. He has his arm around Izzy, and everybody seems to be in that blissful pause between main course and dessert. Clary waves and a cacophony of hellos welcomes her. She smacks Alec on the shoulder, kisses Magnus on the cheek when he tilts his head in invitation, fist bumps Jace and Simon, greets one of the cats with a stroke on their back, and finally sits next to Izzy. ‘Hi love,’ she murmurs. They have not seen each other for more than half an hour in passing because of their busy schedules this past week, and she missed her. Isabelle answers her with a light kiss on the lips.

‘Urrrgh can’t you guys not do that in front of me?! I said I’m okay with you as a couple, but I definitely don’t need to see you suck face!’

Clary is oscillating between annoyance (they were not sucking face) and a little guilt, still there after three months, but Alec does not give her a chance to retort before he exclaims:

‘Oh my God Jace, will you stop!’, then turning to Clary and Isabelle, he adds: ‘This morning, it was Magnus and me he was complaining about. You should have heard his whining, apparently we scarred him for life.’

Izzy coos at his brother with a ‘poor baby’, as Jace tries to defend himself in a high-pitch voice: ‘You were sitting on Magnus’s lap! and he was naked.’

‘I was not naked, I was in my panties,’ Magnus pipes up from the kitchen where he disappeared at some point. ‘Also, you didn’t knock.’

‘And you were one hour early!’ Alec joins in, in that exasperated voice that means it is not the first time he had to say it.

‘Well, I miss my _parabatai_ ,’ Jace says in a tone that starts petulant and ends quite soft and genuine. Alec’s answering smile as he sits back in his chair could close the discussion, but Clary is still bothered by Jace’s first comment so she does not take the out Alec gave her. 

‘Are you really uncomfortable with Izzy and I kissing in front of you?’ she asks sadly, looking at her folded hands on her lap and not at Jace. There is a tense silence around the room. ‘No – well, yes but – ’ Jace stammers. ‘I don’t want to be,’ he says softly. ‘I really am alright that you are together. I am happy for you both. It’s just… It still hurts a little part of me when I see you kissing her.’ Clary finally looks at him across from her, and she watches him steel himself before adding: ‘I promise I’ll get over it.’ The moment is precious, and intimate, even though it is not private. She mouths ‘thank you’, and Simon thankfully breaks the tension by exclaiming: ‘What you need is exposure therapy! One peck a day, and you’ll see in two weeks you won’t notice anymore.’

Soon they are all laughing and eating crème brûlée that Magnus burned in front of them – with a blowtorch instead of magic, because he is _that_ extra. Jace is back to his loud, cocky self, harassing Magnus about a potion-related quarry. Izzy is talking literature with Alec, who took Simon’s place for a bit, since Simon is sitting on the floor, trying to … _encanto_ a cat?

And in the middle of all that chaos, Clary is eating with her left hand, as the right is currently in Izzy’s, and letting all her school-related worries fade away. This afternoon is for family, only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... that's it :) I really enjoyed writing this story, I hope some of you enjoyed reading it !


End file.
